Saga of the Rapier's Blade I: Points of Dispute
by Rhys
Summary: It's Boba Fett versus Prince Xixor in this timespanning story that takes place before and after K.W. Jeter's Bounty Hunter Wars Trilogy! And even after Xixor's death, his most loyal minion won't stop gunning for Fettand her revengeuntil he's dead.
1. Chapter One: Now, fourteen years after "...

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DISCLAIMER: _Star Wars_ (although I fervently wish otherwise) is not mine. Neither is (although it would be awesome beyond belief) Boba Fett. Nor are any of the other characters in this story, not even the one's I made up. If _Lucasfilm_ wants 'em, they can have 'em, with my blessings and cheers! (Besides, the girl's pretty annoying. At least if you're a bounty hunter.) This book ties in around and between (and upside down and alongside and inside out and counter clockwise and…shutting up) the _Bounty Hunter Wars Trilogy: The Mandalorian Armor_ (excellent book, best of them), _Slave Ship_, and _Hard Merchandise_. However, you'll more than get it even if you haven't read those. And I don't' think it gives much if anything away that happened then, so if you plan to read them, this shouldn't spoil it. 

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STAR WARS

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The Saga of the Rapier's Blade: 

"Points of Dispute" (book 1)

Chapter I:

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Now, fourteen years after Return of the Jedi…

In a deserted, out of the way asteroid field in the Outer Rim near Tatooine, Foreran, an aspiring bounty hunter, watched and waited. And worried.

The merchandise wasn't what made this assignment more challenging than any other was. It was the level competition. _Which was very deadly indeed,_ Foreran reminded himself for the tenth time in the last five Standard Minutes, and renewed his vigil. If the…_other_ hunter he was worried about had seen him…Foreran shuddered. The possibilities were just as unpleasant as they were endless. But that's what made this merchandise so promising. There was a law that applied to this job, in particular and bounty hunting in general: The bigger the risks, the bigger the payoff. And every hunter, from the top of the trade to the rookies who never made it past their first job knew it. Even…the _other _hunter, the one Foreran watched so carefully for. _Wait! Is that him?_ Foreran sighed in relief. _No, it was just a false alarm_. Even _he_ wasn't crazy enough to do _that_. After all, even the most foolhardy of smugglers, bounty hunters, and spacers wouldn't fly right _into_ a comet's tail for anything! No, not even _he_ would do that. Foreran relaxed and raised the microbinoculars he had lowered in surprise back to his one eye. He glanced at the comet once more; such a beautiful sight. But beautiful sights wouldn't save his hide, he reminded himself, and started to turn and scan the rest of the empty, black, star-filled space. But…what was that flying out of the comet? A piece of debris—with laser cannons?! _What—oh nooooooo…_

* * *

Foreran's cry of anguish died as abruptly as it had started, the pieces of the late bounty hunter's ship clicking lightly as they banged harmlessly into the hull of the _Slave V_. Boba Fett disliked all the so-called bounty hunters that died so easily. Still, he supposed it cut down on the number of amateurs crowding space, racing around like frantic Bituni Hen-fare. There were certainly enough of them, lately.

__

Fett turned his deadly attention to other matters, which the supposedly observant Foreran hadn't noticed. The _Hound's Tooth II_ was lurking just behind a nearby asteroid. It would be easy to simply vaporize the ship…but Fett had his own agenda concerning Bossk. One which involved keeping the stupid, snarling Trandoshan around. For the time being, and, of course, provided that the scaly reptiliode didn't get in his way. With the Trandoshan's stupidity, there wasn't an overly large chance that Bossk could do anything Fett couldn't handle. Of course, he'd proved to be almost more trouble than he was worth back when Fett was still dealing with Xixor's mistake, but that was the past, and Fett had no use for the past where it didn't concern the present. The moment was all that mattered. Anything else was just details. Details that could kill you, if you worried about them too much. Then again, what else was there but death in a bounty hunter's profession?

Calmly, Fett aimed both his smaller ion cannon and Proton Disintegration Mod 0.9 at the same spot on the large, hulking asteroid. He targeted by sight, which was more accurate in instances like this than the computer. Although he had reprogrammed it himself, it still couldn't recognize items such as asteroids as threats. At the same moment, he fired the ion and the Proton Disintegration. The asteroid exploded, and Bossk's ship went tumbling out of control, dead in space. Fett could almost hear the Trandoshan cursing in surprise and anger as he flailed about in his ship. He could also imagine the animosity Bossk would be practically radiating at him. Giving into emotion like that was one of the stupider things a sentient creature could do. It could also be one of the messier ways to get yourself killed. All electrical and navigational systems on the _Hound_ were down. It shouldn't take Bossk very long to rewire them from that—Fett hadn't felt the need to power up any of his higher weapons—but it would be long enough. Especially given the amount of time Bossk would probably spend on useless and pointless displays of anger before even starting to repair his ship.

Boba Fett turned his attention to another "asteroid"—but this time it was no such thing. Although it wouldn't show up on any legal scanner, and on only two types of (very expensive) illegal ones, Fett wouldn't have had much trouble noticing the oddness about it even _without_ his high-tech equipment. To a trained eye, the asteroid stuck out as much as a lake would on Tatooine. The edges had been welded down, and the surface was dully scratched, allowing faint glimmers of metal to shine through. He supposed Bossk wouldn't have noticed, but that bumbling idiot could hardly be counted as a "trained eye" for anything. Except, maybe, hand-to-claw killing. 

With a carefully modulated shot, Fett blasted the asteroid into atoms, and then cruised on in in-time to blast the engines out of the small, one-man craft attempting to power-up quickly enough to take off. Less than forty-two seconds later, the sniveling merchandise was in Fett's holding cage, and the _Slave V_ was on its way out of the system and into hyperspace with a full thirty seconds left before Bossk had repaired _any_ of his ships systems. Boba Fett shook his helmeted head. That creature was so _slow_. It would be amazing if he could've ever reached the same height in their chosen trade that Fett had, even if the Bounty Hunter's Guild was still around for him to lean upon. Even had Fett himself been gone. Which, of course, would never happen. Or at least, certainly not the way these pitiful creatures were progressing. It had taken a mere fifteen seconds to foul-up that last attempt. Disgusting.

If only someone had had a little more skill, Fett might have faced more challenging assignments. Boba Fett wondered if Xixor's "replacement" was getting any better; it would be about time. Xixor…now _there_ had been a true fool. A challenging enemy, very true, but still a fool. Then again, "fools" were usually the most dangerous type…


	2. Chapter Two: Then, shortly before the ev...

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Chapter II:

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Then, shortly before then events of A New Hope…

Xixor looked out at his "domain" and felt another welling of impatience within himself for the time when it would _truly_ be his…and no longer Emperor Palpatine's. _The old fool!_ And Darth Vader…Xixor's mood turned darker, more vengeful, as it always did when he though about _him_. His family's murderer…Xixor's hand clenched into a fist, crumpling the flimsiplast note he'd just received. His spy, Kellarra, had made a…misstep. And now, someone knew. Xixor was as unaware as anyone, yet, of just _who_ knew _what_—but he knew that someone had first, intercepted the last transmission the spy had been sending him, and then killed her. Now, he had yet to find out _who_ that someone was. Which was the second reason he'd thought of Vader. If the Dark Lord knew Kellarra had been contacting _him_…then the sun would shortly set on Black Sun. They, their plans, and their lives were all forfeit if Vader had made that last, fatal connection between Black Sun and Prince Xixor, and, more importantly, had _proof_ about those connections. 

"My Lord?" Xixor turned his attention to the officer who had tentatively interrupted his revere. With dire consequences—they all _knew_ not to disturb his thoughts! How many times had he…

"Why are you interrupting me?" Xixor's words were hissed, barely above a whisper. The technician's boldness melted into fear as he stared at the Falleen noble with terror. He knew the penalties.

"M-my Lord, you asked to b-be informed—"

"I 'asked' to be left in peace! You have deliberately disobeyed my authority!" The dark prince's violet eyes flashed with irritation, as he stood, towering over the cowering subordinate. 

"B-but my Lord! It-its B-Boba Fett! You ask-asked to b-be informed when he ar-arived…" the technician's voice went hoarse, and trailed off, as fear robbed the moisture form his throat. 

Xixor's black ponytail fell over his shoulder limply, as he calmed down and sat back upon his throne. "Ah. I did. Very well, show him in." _I will have a word with _you_ later!_ Xixor silently promised the thankful technician. 

"Yes my Lord!" relief was audible in the few words. "At once, my Lord."

"Dismissed. Go." Xixor curtly cut off his blubbering.

"Yes, my Lord," the bowing technician hurried from the audience chamber, shutting the door. 

That door was opened again, almost immediately. Xixor had barely had enough time to regain his composure when the bounty hunter entered.

"Prince Xixor." Did he imagine a slight, slurring insult of the title? Of course he didn't! Fett would respect _him_…but Black Sun's ruler wondered still.

"Boba Fett, I am so pleased that you came as _promptly _as you did in answer to my summons!" Xixor's smooth voice barely showed the anger he felt at having been kept waiting, and the insult of _being _kept waiting by someone of such rank. No matter that the bounty hunter might have been busy plying his trade, Xixor did not appreciate having to pause his plans for the hunter's convenience. A pause at this stage, especially with this trouble over his spy, Kellarra, could be fatal.

Even with his eyes hidden behind the dark visor of his helmet, Xixor could almost see the bounty hunter rolling his eyes. Xixor's own eyes narrowed to violet slits as he glared at Fett. 

"Fine. Glad I didn't keep you waiting," the bounty hunter replied emotionlessly. "You wanted me for something?" Xixor could scarcely believe it—had Fett missed the ridicule and sarcasm in his voice? He _could _be merely ignoring it. But to what purpose? An apology wouldn't fix anything, no, but an explanation would certainly do so, and either would be welcome. Xixor's cold reptilian blood ran warmer, nearly to a boil, the temperature of his anger. He took a breath and calmed himself. It wouldn't do to let the bounty hunter detect any signs of his anger—or Xixor's further plans for him. They were but musings now, but over time, if other pieces fell into place, if the Bounty Hunter's Guild…ruminations over Fett's future and fate would have to be postponed.

"Yes, I do indeed have a proposition to make to you right now, Fett." Xixor let a suspenseful, expectant pause hang in the air.

"Obviously. Why else would I be here?"

Xixor refused to allow Fett's goading to anger him and even managed to smile thinly. "Shall we worry about the character's name after payment has been discussed?"

"Depends." Xixor knew that Fett preferred not to do business that way where private bounties were concerned, but he did. _Especially _with such delicate merchandise to be discussed, and especially with _this _bounty hunter.

"Ah, yes. Credits do seem to be the deciding factor where those such as you are concerned, aren't they?" Again, Xixor let an expectant pause hang in the air for suspense.

"How much?" Fett had a most direct way of doing business; you told him who, how much, where, and how you wanted someone, quickly, and he exchanged them for the credits—quickly. If you tried to take up his time with a lot of talk, he might even stalk out the door and forget about it. Xixor wasn't in the mood to experiment with how long he could keep the bounty hunter today despite the enjoyment it usually garnered. The Falleen Prince had an appointment with the Dark Lord soon. One he _couldn't_ miss.

"Shall we say, eighty-thousand credits, for fast delivery?" Xixor smiled at the armored figure. 

"For who?" The bounty hunter was not to be discouraged about that information. Xixor would have preferred keeping Fett from knowing until he had agreed. 

"Ah, yes. I would like you to bring me the merchandise known as Larrallna Frrecóusé." Xixor was certain Fett would never have heard of _her_; it had taken even his spies a disgracefully long time to wrangle that information loose for him, as she was the young daughter of one of his many competitors. A competitor that was getting far too troublesome for Xixor's taste! As a complete unknown, Fett wouldn't ever know who he agreed to locate until he was forced to call Xixor and ask for _help_—and _that_, Xixor would pay dearly to see!—in finding her.

Fett was silent for a moment before answering—Xixor _thought_ he heard a muffled whisper, almost as if the bounty hunter were talking over a comm to someone—impossible! Fett had _never _had a partner before—didn't need one, of course, he _was_ the best at what he did. The Dark Prince must be hearing things. He would have to see Guri about that. For someone in his line of business, hearing things was very good, unless those things proved false. In which case it could be—and often would be—fatal.

"No," the bounty hunter spoke decisively in a tone the brooked no argument.

_"'No?!'"_ Xixor was incredulous—a mere bounty hunter saying "no" to _him_? He, Prince Xixor, ruler of the Black Sun? He, commander of a hundred fortunes? Utterly unheard of! "No!?" Xixor repeated again, stunned.

"No. And it's final." Fett didn't bother to give a reason why—never did—but that only served to incense Xixor further. 

"I…see. You are…quite certain, then?" Xixor's eyes narrowed even further, to the barest slits of violet. "And there are no forms of…persuasion…that might profit you to change your mind?" As time from the initial surprise passed, Xixor recovered enough of his wits to smooth-talk like normal, and…_persuade_ Fett to agree with him. Black Sun had _many _waysto "persuade" creatures to agree with them, and few were as pleasant as the exchange of credits, as Xixor now delicately warned the bounty hunter.

"No." Fett completely ignored Xixor's veiled threat. Completely! Ignored! Xixor was absolutely infuriated—so much so, in fact, that he couldn't even speak to order Fett not to leave, but watched the bounty hunter walk out. 

Xixor. Was. _Mad_. 

This was the last time he would allow the bounty hunter such free reign in _his_ region! Ever…Boba Fett had just signed his death warrant—and Xixor would make sure _that_ sentence was carried out…Fett's death, and the end of his insubordination, couldn't be too long in coming for_ his_ tastes…

* * *

Fett stalked out of Xixor's palace and blasted away into clean, cold space. The Prince was a full of himself as ever. Sickeningly so. Thinking he could just order the whole galaxy around to do his bidding for whatever reasons pleased his fancy, and for whatever motivation he felt like dishing out. Still, the amount of credits weren't what had prompted Fett to turn down the job—but neither were any ethical grounds. Fett was not averse to tracking down anyone of any standing; rather, it was that fact that children were so annoying when he captured them. Besides, that often ended up with a bad ending; he'd heard of many bounty hunters he had slightly respected who were…otherwise disposed thanks to the transport of young creatures. _Not_, Fett amended_, every species had problems like that_. Humans were one if the worst. Whining, begging, sniveling little brats. They had some way of shutting down and becoming worthless merchandise without their guardians nearby--or at least someone they knew. Also, as such small, agile, tireless creatures there were many means of transport that were out—and if they did get out of their restraints, there was no limit to the damage they could unwarily cause, often accidentally killing themselves—or the hunter. And they were just plain _bothersome_ with their incessant questions and demands. And they all thought they were immortal, or that "mommy" and "daddy" would beat the "bad men" and save their miserable little hides. 

And here Xixor was trying to fool him into capturing one? Fett would have sighed, if he were given to expressing his emotions. The Dark Prince must have thought that Fett wouldn't know what he was agreeing to. However, any information once pried loose from its moorings was that much easier for someone else to find. In extremely high security matters, even the most experienced slicers left trails that their equals in that profession could exploit. And it helped to have informers all over the place—including in Black Sun—that were willing to tell you what information had been dug out and passed around recently. Every being added to a secret diluted the secret's effect and increased the chances that someone else would hear about it. Fett plotted in his course trajectory and sat while the ship slammed into hyperspace, then reached for his comm system and began punching in some _very_ private code-numbers. One of his many "eyes and ears" was due for a report…_over_due, in point of fact. That could be…_unhealthy_. 

As it could be for Xixor if he pushed too hard on this Larrallna Frrecóusé issue. 

The comm came through with a burst of static. No answer…but the spy was still alive. Fett muttered a code to the speaker in his helmet and depressed some tiny buttons on his control board. Boba Fett would have known if his spy were dead—and anyway, no reason to take chances—better to make sure that he was in fact deceased. As he would be, now; in five…four…three…two…one…

* * *

On the small moon of Dffr-Addr, Grrn Mllhr skulked in the shadows outside a cantina. He was "Blian Ceindf" right now. A normal denizen of KKlrk's Cantina…but he was also a spy for someone very important. Especially on a planet like this. Grrn had just figured out whom he was really spying for half a day ago. Amazing! Boba Fett…he, Grrn Mllhr, was a spy for _Boba Fett_. Now it was time to make money off that. He could sell the frequency to a _very_ rich—and _very_ interested buyer. Bossk only knew that he had information about Boba Fett—not what _kind_ of information. Now it was time to cash in. It had taken Grrn this long to just arrange a meeting with anybody. 

Grrn looked down at the commlink in his small, gray, three-fingered hand. It had been 5 Standard Hours since he was last "due" to report in, and Grrn was getting nervous. He would have spread a lie—but how was he to know that Fett wouldn't catch on? Now he could always plead busyness…_Heh heh heh, I'm busy all right…busy sellin' him out!_ Grrn glanced down at the comm in his hand, anxiously. Was it getting _warmer_? Impossible! He'd de-bugged the comm himself, and it'd had nothing on it! Not a single out-of-the-ordinary little microchip! Just his imagination. _Shouldn't let yerself get this jittery, Grrn! Just a matter of money, tha's all. Jus' a matter of money…_

* * *

Bossk stalked down the dim, dark alleyway. That little scavenger had said he knew something about Bossk's archenemy. Fett…even the name was enough to get Bossk mad. _Stupid, melodramatic, why he couldn't have just told me there…_Bossk grumbled to himself, stumbling along in the dark. Suddenly, he tripped over something. Almost before he'd hit the ground Bossk was up again, blaster out, senses alert, trying to spot his assailant. 

Bossk sneezed—the Trandoshan version of a sneeze, that is. After standing tensed a few more minutes Bossk let his guard down, and went back to the dark shape he'd tripped over. _What in the name of the Eggshells of…_Bossk stared at the body. _Still warm…only just died…_It was the little scavenger he'd been about to deal with…Bossk's vision went red. _Why_ was it that whenever he was about to get a step up on Fett, someone had to go and be so _nasty_? Why'd the _fnarling_ jerk have to die _now_? Couldn't the galaxy just have let _Bossk_ take care of him? Blian Ceindf...the little idiot! Bossk managed to make himself investigate further. Blian Ceindf was clutching a small, fused lump of metal. It looked like it might once have been a commlink. A strange smell perfumed the air around Ceindf. Bossk sniffed again, and discovered that it had started from the...commlink? _No! _Bossk snarled to himself, enraged. _Fett! I'll kill him! I'll rip him limb from limb! That slimy little son of a…_ Bossk jumped away from the body quickly. If it was poison, Bossk himself might be in danger. 

The Trandoshan bounty hunter stormed off. Bossk was livid with anger. 

All Trandoshans kept long, grudge-filled memories. Every insult was marked off, every abuse was accounted for. _Somebody_ was always blamed. On Bossk's own list, another instance had been added. With the same name as _every other one_. Boba Fett…

* * *

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Guri stood in the doorway of Xixor's private sanctum. Without turning around, Xixor rebuked her, "You know I don't like being disturbed in here." Which, Xixor realized as he spoke, was pretty pointless. Guri knew almost as much about his institution as he did. As much as any creature could claim. "Well?"  
Guri didn't bother answering. Instead, she walked forward and handed Xixor a datapad. Xixor glanced at it disdainfully, before starting to toss it away. Then he stopped. It was information about Frrecóusé Co. Inc. The same Frrecóusés he'd been trying to get Boba Fett to kidnap the daughter of. With an effort, Xixor pushed the bounty hunter to the back of his twisted mind. Apparently, they were expanding their operations into Xixor's territory. _Apparently_ they'd been doing so for some time…Xixor's short rush of anger turned cold. His species, the Falleen, were cold, dispassionate, a throwback to their reptilian heritage, and so was Xixor's fury. 

"We must see that these…matters are taken care of." Guri nodded silently. Xixor continued, "I want you to go meet with their representatives. Let them know how…_displeased_ we are." Guri nodded again, then turned and left the room. 

Xixor tossed the datapad against the far wall, and sank back down in his chair, trying to reachieve the state of calm he'd had previously to Guri's entrance. He couldn't. His mind was buzzing with annoyance. Frrecóusé Inc. had paid off his own spies to keep them from reporting to Xixor. Well. They were going to be sorry. Then Fett had refused to capture—so what if it was more like kidnapping?—Larrallna Frrecóusé, the young daughter of that company. Oh, they were going to be sorry.

They would _all_ be sorry.


	3. Chapter Three: Then, shortly before the ...

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Chapter III:

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Larrallna Frrecóusé tried to sit _very_ still as Merrellá slowly and carefully slid the delicate comb into her pale blue hair. It _hurt_, a lot, and Larrallna blinked her light purple eyes rapidly to keep from crying. She _couldn't _cry in front of Merrellá. The kind nanny would think her a coward, if just some uncomfortable hair made her cry. She was the daughter of a very important family. She had to be brave—she was special, a Frrecóusé. In fact, she had finally been allowed to go to one of daddy's business meetings. Not the whole thing, of course, just the dinner. Some deals, Larrallna knew, were furthered much more in the quiet, comfortable talk around _dreeg'_ steaks and _cooln_ platter than ever happened over bargaining tables.

And she was allowed to go to one! Daddy had made her promise to be on her very best behavior, and she would. If she wasn't, she'd get in really big trouble. Daddy was involved in really delicate negotiations now. This was the first time Larrallna was allowed to even be in the same room while they were talking about deals. She was so happy; she'd be especially careful not to embarrass daddy. Merrellá had said that daddy was talking with people about something to do with Black Sun. Larrallna didn't know much about Black Sun, but she knew that they were bad people, people that would want to hurt her daddy. Maybe daddy was talking with people that could get rid of Black Sun for him. After all, nasty people shouldn't be around to hurt nice people like her daddy.

"All right, child, you are ready. Go to you father now. See if he approves of you." 

"Yes, Merrellá!" Larrallna answered and jumped down from the stool. She hurried off to find daddy. She hoped he liked how her new dress looked on her. It was one that daddy had gotten for her, after a business trip that she wasn't allowed to come on. Larrallna knocked on the door of her daddy's study and waited. She crossed her fingers behind her back, for luck. Daddy could be hard to please sometimes. She really hoped he thought she looked all right in her new dress. 

The door swished open, not quite soundlessly. Daddy had taken precautions, he said, making sure that nobody could sneak up on anyone in his house and hurt them. He said Black Sun would, if they could, and Black Sun was bad people. Larrallna was glad that her daddy was so smart. She wasn't even startled anymore when the doors made noises like that. 

Her daddy leaned out carefully, then, seeing Larrallna, smiled broadly. 

"Hello, daddy," she spoke carefully, annunciating each word clearly, "I am ready if you are satisfied with me."

He made a show of scrutinizing her up and down, carefully. "Hmm. Well…It's not perfect," he winked at her, "but it'll do, I suppose. I don't know…maybe I should just send her back and get a new one…"

"Da-_ddy_!" she squealed and he laughed powerfully. The thin, immaculate man smiled broadly and bent down, scooping his daughter up into his arms. 

"Alright, duchess, let's come in. I'll tell you all about the person coming for dinner…" He carried her in, rumpling her dress beyond repair short of a steaming press, talking happily all the while about the business associate Larrallna would soon meet, gaining squeals of delight every few minutes, alternated with irritated "da-_ddy_"s from his little girl.

* * *

Boba Fett's boots clanked on the metal treads as he climbed down the ladder. The merchandise cowered in its cage. Fett ignored it as he strode to the storage compartment in the _Slave I_. His gloved hand depressed the hidden catch—Fett didn't worry about his merchandise, it wouldn't notice—and the small drawers popped open enough that Fett could pull one of them out. He opened the secret compartment in the side and slipped out a small comm. The comm carried with it a promise of certain death if it were used. He turned on one booted heel and returned to the cockpit of his ship. He ignored the merchandise's pleas as he strode past it. This one would be no trouble. It was too weak to try anything like suicide. 

Fett sat in the pilot's chair in the small, cramped cockpit. It was only large enough for one person, him—and he was the only one who would ever need to enter it. Anyone else on the ship would be staying in the holding cage. Once, it had been made for more people. Once, more than he had occupied it…but that was in the past. The past that did not have anything to do with the present. And so it was ignored.

Fett activated the comm unit he had…_procured_ from Black Sun. They hadn't even noticed its vanishing act. _Stupid of them_, thought Fett disdainfully. But it was fine for Boba Fett. The comm had a long string of digits to get past the security measures, but he'd cracked them long ago. Fett entered the numbers from memory—on matters like this, his memory was infallible. 

"Yes, my lord?" the comm buzzed with static, a fallback to the extensive scrambling. 

The technician's voice was hardly recognizable as speaking Basic. Fett's would be equally unrecognizable. But precautions were always necessary. Boba Fett reached up and fiddled with the controls on his helmet's vox-synthesizer. His voice, when he spoke, sounded odd, high-pitched, and buzzing. "Change of plans. We've been discovered. Drop off the…_baggage_, and get back to your base immediately." 

"Yes my lord…but, which base would you like us to return to?"

Obviously, Fett's venture was working out. The bounty hunter stayed silent a moment, pondering, then took a gamble. "The one in the Snnthros system." 

"Yes, my lord." Fett clicked off the comm and looked sharply at it a moment. Good. It was not a single use comm. It probably didn't have much range thanks to all the scrambling, but it had sufficed this time. Boba Fett returned his vox speaker to its normal levels and returned to the holding area. He paused a moment before slipping the comm back into its drawer. It had served its purpose well enough, but it now posed a risk of detection. If Xixor realized what had happened, he might possibly think to trace all his private comms, or figure out who had the missing one. Xixor quite probably would, and that meant he might be able to find where Fett was. He shut the drawer and walked back towards the ladder. It was a large risk, but Fett had taken many. And this _was_ Xixor. The man might be the head of Black Sun, but the Dark Prince was a fool. _A dangerous fool_, Boba Fett reminded himself. Underestimating ones enemy could be very dangerous. _Which is why I won't underestimate him… _The way Xixor was acting, that shouldn't be a problem for some time to come. 

* * *

This was unheard of. _But if it'll get me off this rock any sooner, splendid._ Black Sun had pulled his team off Drusakk way ahead of time. And told them to drop off the "baggage" right away._ Well, good_, Grru thought, _it was getting annoying anyway_. Time to tell the rest of the team. "Quelrr, Frrían, Herrk, time to pull out." Grru's teammates stared at him in shocked surprise. 

"What?" Frrían, the team's computer whiz, seemed even more incredulous. "Time to go? But we aren't done!"

Grru fixed her with a scathing glare. "Oh, sure, I'm gonna tell Prince Xixor that we can't leave yet, because we're 'not done' here. Come on! He _knows_ that! He _told_ us to leave, geniuses, so he thinks we're done, duh." Grru gave a ludicrous shake of his head; "His Highness obviously knows something we don't. If he didn't, we might as well be running the show!"

"P-prince Xixor _himself_ called? B-by comm? But th-that's unheard of! Our mission is so-so unimportant! And it's not even done! How— " 

Grru looked at Frrían as if she'd lost her mind. "Come _on_. Of _course_ our mission's done! If His Highness's telling us that's it, then we did all we were _really_ supposed to do."

"Ah. Ahumm." Quelrr seemed to have gotten it quicker than anyone else had. "Our mission perhaps was open not so much as thought we had. Something else done we did. Supposed to we were. Or elsewhere are we needed." 

"Good point." Once he'd figured out Quelrr's odd talk out, he had to admit that she might be right. Grru hadn't even thought that maybe Prince Xixor would be sending in someone less talented to do the rest of the job while they were off doing something else.

"Or perhaps not enough good were we. Some one better sending they maybe." 

Trust Quelrr to make a low point like that, just when Grru was thinking that maybe he'd done something really good. That was her all over. 

"Point moot it is. Leave we quickly must what no matter." Quelrr had another point there.

It didn't pay to keep Black Sun waiting anytime—least of all when the Head Honcho himself had given the orders. "Pack it up people. We're moving out." Though of course, none of those ideas explained why they were dropping the "baggage" here and leaving it. But, as he himself had pointed out, if they knew as much as Prince Xixor did, they might as well be in charge of the organization. Anyway, as Quelrr had said, it didn't really matter. It was enough that they were getting off this mud-ball and back into the action.

It was time to go.

* * *

Fett checked his sources. Even though he knew they wouldn't be fool enough to disobey an order from Xixor, it always paid to check. They wouldn't want to make their Dark Prince angry—but by obeying their orders, that was exactly what they would do. Xixor would probably never know who it was that had betrayed him. But in this business, trusting a _probably_ was as good as putting a blaster to your head and pulling the trigger. Most likely worse even. Death wasn't courted lightly by many, but there was a great deal of things worse than dying. 

Which, if things went well, someone would be doing in half a timepart. Fett plotted his course trajectory into hyperspace, preparing to go make certain that one loose link was destroyed—turning the probably into an almost-certainty. _Still_, Fett thought, _better not to count on that._ Doing so would only make the game deadlier to play than it was already. _But games like this…that's where the money is_. Fett nodded slowly, alone in the silence of hyperspace. That was certainly true. The more dangerous the prey, the larger the payoff. 

__

And this payoff will be big indeed.

* * *

Guri, the human replica droid, looked at her terminal with something approaching annoyance. The reports were not favorable. Her master would not be pleased when he heard this. Frrecóusé Inc. wasn't responding in the way she had planned. True, she had not managed to kill the head of their corporation, but still with such high-level members gone, they should at least be worried. And they should be paying more attention to Black Sun's displeasure. It was almost as if they didn't care. Prince Xixor would be even more upset at the bounty hunter Boba Fett's refusal now. 

Had she been a living creature, she might have sensed fear at going back to report such an unfavorable circumstance. As it was, she was not looking forward to it. Her master would be _most_ displeased with her performance. Guri rolled her "eyes"—optical sensors designed to look like real human eyes—with exasperation. Here was another piece of bad news. 

The team they had stationed on Drusakk had disappeared. _That_ was interesting. From these data sketches, they all appeared to be loyal, unimaginative, simple workers for Black Sun. Not at all the sort one would expect to disobey orders from their superiors. _This_ could bear some further investigating. Something wasn't right here…

As a droid, Guri didn't suffer from things such as hunches or intuition, but _something_ in her cerebral processor was telling her that something was definitely up with this. _Hmm. That could merit some introspection. _Guri had never heard of anything of this sort happening to a fellow droid, but she was unique among droids. The only HRD ever made, thanks to the _untimely_ death of her creator, courtesy Black Sun's "repayment" forces. A very secretive group, especially about _certain items_. But _this_…this was an odd computation indeed. But now was not the time for such introspection and self-analysis. Now she had a job to do.

Guri shut down her terminal and turned to the comm station. "Master." She waited for an answer before continuing, "things have developed that may harm your plans. I must say nothing more now; the channel I am using is insecure. I will inform you of it once I land."

"Of course, Guri. I look forward to your report."

The tone of Xixor's voice made it clear that he did no such thing. "Yes, my lord." Guri signed off and prepared for landing. Things could shortly get very interesting. Her master had never matched her against an opponent of Fett's caliber. The droid hoped that her Prince would soon become irritated enough with Fett to allow Guri to clash with the bounty hunter who had cheated death so many times that he was though by some to be immortal. Depending on how things went, she might get the chance to prove them wrong. Guri was, as much as a droid can, looking forward to this very much. Very much indeed.

* * *

Xixor irritaitedly drummed his fingers on his desk chair. Guri had told him nothing new, but it annoyed him nonetheless. His plans had been given such careful fine-tuning, gone over so thoroughly, and now they could be "harmed" by something. And while Guri never exaggerated, so very often she would understate the facts. And now was not a good time for that. _How annoying_, thought Xixor, _just when I had finally gotten things back under my control_. He was not pleased with the news. But that was nothing new. Xixor had not been pleased with how things were progressing for some time.

The Dark Prince decided that the best thing for now would be to wait for Guri's report. A faint smile played across the Falleen's lips. Patience was a virtue, after all, and Xixor was indeed virtuous.

* * *

Darth Vader sat, debating. He was not a creature given to debate. When he decided to do something, he did it, and let the Empire keep up with him. He was not a troubled creature; his conscience did not plague him, or at least what was left of a conscience, after so many years of simply following the Dark Side, following the true Force. But this was a situation…different from his normal circumstance. The Dark Prince, Xixor, merited different resolution. Vader fiddled with the trigger for the comm unit. The Imperial Officer glanced over at him, went pale and looked away. When Vader…"fiddled" it was usually a sign that someone was going to be asphyxiated. 

Painfully. And soon.

The Imperial Officer swallowed audibly. 

Vader made a decision. He opened the comm, using the Force to rapidly dial the set of numbers his agents had found for him. Not one of the Imperials sitting around the area dared to make a noise, hardly even dared to breathe. They all carefully made certain that they were looking pointedly elsewhere. The menacing gasp of his respirator was harshly audible in the near silence on the bridge of the _Devastator_. 

The entity on the other end didn't answer. The silence became even quieter. Vader's breathing—while time-regulated so that it couldn't change—somehow seemed to slow…portentously…

On the flat-screen comm vies in front of the Dark Lord, another helmeted figure appeared. 

"What?" came the harshly accented question from the vox-synthesizer on the ancient, battered but still functional helmet.

Vader was ominously silent for a moment. 

"My Lord," the other creature added emotionlessly. The Imperial Officers searched their brains frantically for some reason to leave and go somewhere else—quickly and quietly. While they didn't know who the Sith was talking to, they really didn't want to find out. 

"I must say, you disappoint me."

The other figure made no reply to the insult, just sat and awaited the Dark Lord's pleasure…rather impatiently, Vader thought. If he were given to games, he might make the other wait longer just to anger him. But Vader's games were more…_useful_ than mere exercises in pointless cruelty. His "games" were always for a reason, no matter how cruel other creatures might find them. 

Vader continued, "I would have thought…that you would know better than to work for creatures such as Prince Xixor…and, perhaps, a certain criminal company…?" He let his voice trial off, half-questioningly, half a statement of fact.

The figure over the comm shrugged dispassionately. "Whatever pays," the harsh voice replied.

"Indeed," the deep hissing voice of the Dark Lord of the Sith replied, "then let us speak of your…_business_."

"Who do you want?"

"And how much?" Vader added to the other's statement. He shook his helmeted head, "not anything like what you're used to." He looked to see if the figure on the other end of the comm had any reaction to his words, but the other helmeted figure sat as emotionlessly as before. Vader then quoted a sum. It was only through the Force that he noticed any reaction to the enormous amount of credits. He thought, although it was possibly just a trick of the light, that he sensed the other blink behind his well-know visor. Behind his own helmet, Vader smiled maliciously.

However, when it came, the other's voice was a level and stripped of emotion as before. "For who?" he asked almost casually…well, as casually as anything can sound when that certain creature spoke about his one and only passion—if any such emotional word could be applied to the cold logic that governed not only his actions but his thoughts. 

"Not your usual range of expertise. But that is why I name such a large sum. That is to be paid you if you agree to take the job. You will receive that again if you complete it successfully," the Dark Lord replied nonchalantly.

"Again. Who is it?"

"As I said, not in your usual range of expertise. I require…information. About a certain _Dark Prince_. I believe you completed a job for him recently for him…"

"If you mean Xixor, then I know who you're talking about. If not, cut to the chase. My lord." The other figure, in his battered armor, spoke as directly as usual. It was a trait of his that Vader admired…most of the time. When he got disrespectful with it, however, that was a different matter.

"I do." Vader glared at the creature on the other end of the comm. "I assume that, with your network of scum and other informers, you are aware of…_certain situations_ in the Imperial Court, regarding that same individual."

"I am."

"Then I can safely assume that you could also find certain…_proof_ of that individual's…shall we say…_duplicity_, much more _inconspicuously_ than my own agents. Considering the…corporation that that individual works for, you may indeed have sources placed higher than my own." It wasn't and insult to Vader's agents; rather, to the other's. Considering the _certain corporation_ that Xixor worked for, and the unsavory types who worked there, the lower you got in the "corporation" the higher your morals and decency was.

Beneath the ominous, familiar **T**-shaped visor, the other's gaze seemed to narrow, narrowing to a point sharper even than Vader's lightsaber. "I am a hunter. I am not a spy." The other's normally emotionless voice sounded harsher than Vader had heard it, anger thickly lacing every syllable. Through the Dark Side of the Force, Vader could almost taste the delicious feeling of the other's anger.

"The credits will not change. The amount is already preposterous. You cannot negotiate a higher sum—"

The other cut him off: "I am not a spy. Get someone else to do your dirty work for you." 

The bounty hunter ended the connection.

If Vader hadn't been so mad, he probably would have been impressed with the bounty hunter's reaction. Sticking to your guns, staying with something you were sure of, was a trait he admired. However, he did _not _like such a trait when it was opposed to his own agenda. It was a setback, yes, but really not one to get overly upset about. After all, he should have his uses for the hunter in the future…

* * *

Fett listened to Brrak's latest report with interest. So, Xixor had just sent messages to his subordinate Virgos that any of them was not to have any more dealings with Fett, but on sight could destroy him. Capture, of course, would be more "welcome" an alternative. With Xixor, that meant, "kill him if you have to, but if he's dead I won't be happy". Boba Fett wondered for a moment whether or not Durga would bother to listen to Xixor's orders when he was already under contract to Fett. _No, he'll collect the bounty _and_ me._ After that, of course, Fett had better leave as fast as possible if he expected to ever get out. And yet, this could facilitate his plans. _Yes, better to let Xixor think he has the upper hand in this_. Then, Fett might show his hand. It wouldn't do to hide the cards for too long, but showing them too early could be just as deadly. Boba Fett would have to play it carefully to stay alive, but in this game, losing was an impossibility. And it would be one. Always.


	4. Chapter Four: Now, fourteen years after

****

Chapter IV:

__

Now, fourteen years after Return of the Jedi…

"Indeed, doctor."

"Oh, yes, you see, of course, I still have a few of those things with me…Even after the incident. And now…" the doctor laughed maniacally, "now you're going to die!"

"I've been threatened with death before."

"Oh, really, it must be one of the hazards of your profession. Truly, that's all it was for me, a hazard of being an experimental doctor, no reason whatever to drag me in." The doctor paused, as if expecting a reply, but realizing that none was forthcoming, he continued: "Of course, you have to realize, I'm not just _threatening_ you with death. I'm guaranteeing it!" He paused to laugh crazily again.

"I'm sure."

"Now, really, Boba Fett, I thought you were smarter than that. I dosed you with it as soon as you stepped on board my ship. Ha ha ha ha ha…And I already took the antidote! But I won't give it to _you_ unless you set me free! Oh no, Boba Fett, no matter how much you threaten me, I won't give it to you."

Boba Fett made no answer, as if thinking over what the doctor had told him.

"You know you don't have long to debate it. My poison acts rather quickly. You better just let me out of here, then I'll give it too you."

"I don't think so."

"Come, now, Boba Fett, you're disappointing me. I though you were some great survivor. Don't die just to prove me wrong, now!" The doctor was practically dancing with glee.

Again, the bounty hunter made no answer.

"Tell you what, I'll even let you know how much time you've got left to decide. My, my, look at that, only half a minute left. How time flies when you're preparing to die!" the short little Gaagg collapsed into bouts of laughter. "Don't worry, _I_ can wait. _You_ can't."

The seconds ticked away, still Fett remained silent.

"Look, Boba Fett, you may very well have a death wish, but surely not through a painful, deadly poison! Ah ha ha ha ha! You think you'll win, don't you? Well, I'll have the last laugh, Boba Fett! You'll be dead—and _I'll_ be here laughing! Know why, Boba Fett? Cause _I'll_ have killed _you_! Yes, me! Ha ha ha ha ha…."

Still, the seconds ticked by. They became a minute, then two, then three…

The doctor was looking more and more worried as his prediction of thirty seconds was proved false. By the time five minutes had passed, with Fett apparently no worse for wear, the doctor was frantically re-living every minute of the dosage scene in his mind, wondering what vital step had been left out. He could think of none. He _knew_ his poison had been right…so _why_ wasn't the bounty hunter affected? A few moments later, when nothing happened, with the Gaagg still clueless as too his mistake, Fett turned to go.

"But—but you should be dead! You _are_ dead! You _have_ to be dead! I _know_ I left nothing out! Nothing!" the prisoner screamed hysterically. Then, calmer, "all right, tell me what I missed. You _are_ humanoid, and this poison affects almost every humanoid species in the galaxy. You _are_ one it works on; the others are all the wrong sizes to wear that armor! No—wait! I know! You stole the antidote from me when…but it's still here in my hand! Or—yes! You're not affected because you're a species it was never tested on! An unknown! Right?"

"Wrong."

"But—but—but…" the doctor stuttered, perplexed.

"You were right the first time. Your poison is quite deadly." Fett had decided to humor his captive. It would be easier to quickly strip him of all hope this way than to wait for it to happen on its own.

"Then…then I must have made a mistake—gave you the wrong dosage—maybe I…but no…or did I remember to…? That's it! You distracted me, so I forgot to leak it properly!" Hurriedly, hopefully, grasping at anything that might answer his dilemma, the small creature pressed its face against the bars of the cage.

"No. You dosed the poison all right. I just didn't breathe any in." _Besides, better creatures than you have tried similar tricks in the past._

"That's impossible! You were in my ship for over five minutes, and residual of the poison seeped into yours! It's been over half a time part since you were exposed! And you didn't hold your breath that long! It's _impossible_…" the dejected doctor wailed.

"Oxygen tube."

Those two words were enough to snatch every last element of hope from the Gaagg. The stories were true. There was no escaping this ruthless hunter. None….

As the prisoner's visage turned pale and waxy with fear, Fett turned. He ignored the muffled thump of the doctor's slide to the floor of the cage as he climbed the ladder to the cockpit.

Galla Merrann, a private citizen of Coruscant since the days of the Empire, had just returned from shopping. "Dearie, mummy's home!" Galla had expected the patter of tiny feet and a small bundle to launch itself at her legs. Instead, she heard nothing. "Sweetums, where are you? Mommy got you a sweet-cake!" That _would bring her running!_ thought Galla with satisfaction.

"Mummeeee!" the anguished cry rang out from the back room.

"Addi? Addi, baby, what'samatta?" Galla set down her parcels and rushed towards her daughter's voice.

When the mother opened the door to rush in she suddenly stopped short. There, in her safe, secure home, someone was holding a _blaster_ to _her_ baby's head! "What are you doing with my child!?" she shrieked.

"Shut-up and I will not harm her." The young-looking, icy-blond female glared at Galla with cold daggers in her eyes. Addi tried to squirm in her arms. "And don't think about calling Security. You'd both be dead and I'd be gone before they could get here. Trust me; I've taken down Hutts with my bare-hands before, and much, much worse.

Though the girl didn't look hardly old or strong enough to do the feats she suggested, something in her _eyes _struck Galla as…_wrong_, somehow. They were so cold…colder than anything could be and live. "I'll do anything you say. Just don't hurt my Addi."

"Good. I just want you to shut-up and stay still. I need to get something that was hidden here a while ago." The woman dropped Addi to the floor and turned fluidly towards the wall. She pressed her hand to it and mouthed something, then a small part of the wall opened. The blonde reached in and took a small, wrapped package out. "Thank you. You never saw me."

"But-but…" Galla wasn't nearly so afraid of this thin, cool woman now that her baby was safe. And besides, her husband would be home soon. He was a security chief. _He'd_ be able to handle this weird lady! "No, I think you'd better stay right where you are. I—I've called security. If you leave, they'll have to shoot you." _There, the bluff should keep her here until Jooba gets home_.

"You idiot. I warned you not to call security. Now, you'll never tell anyone what happened."

Ra'daali, an old Twi'likki woman who lived next door to Jooba and his family, was on her way to come talk with Galla over some Qerr-tea, when she noticed a strange woman leaving the apartment.

"Excuse me, child—" when you're as old a Ra'daali, _anyone_ can be a child to you—"I haven't seen you around here before. "

The girl turned around and looked the old woman over with an appraising eye. Ra'daali shivered; here eyes were so _cold_. "I see, you must be that lady my aunt was telling me about…oh, my, I seem to have forgotten…let me think…you name was…Ja'li? No…"

"Oh, no, dearie, I'm Ra'daali. You're whose niece, then?"

"I'm Galla's…don't they have such a sweet little girl?"

_Well,_ thought Ra'daali,_ that makes sense, then. She's all right, she's family_. "Yes, dear, I just love little Addi! She's such a nice little girl, I quite agree! In fact, I was just going in to see them now!"

"Oh, no, I wouldn't do that if I were you. Addi, she's in a state. All cold and stiff, short of breath, chills, you know. It's rather _contagious_, really. I'm a doctor, you see, which is why they looked me up."

_Ah, then, that would explain the cold eyes. A doctor, hmm! No _wonder,_ I'm sure she's seen a lot of death in _that_ profession_, thought Ra'daali. "Well, then, I better not go in. At _my_ age you have to be pretty careful, you see!"

"Oh, yes, I know that very well indeed. In fact, you look a little pale." The woman's eyes narrowed, examining the old Twi'lekk closely. "You've been exerting yourself a little too much lately. If you keep this up, you'll have to go see a doctor. I'll be leaving now, have to keep my appointments you know." The blonde turned to go.

"Oh, oh dear, yes, I suppose you're right…yes…must be going…must be going!" Ra'daali hurried away to her own apartment.


	5. Chapter Five: Then, fourteen years after

****

Chapter V:

__

Then, shortly before the events of A New Hope

Guri nodded once, then left. The droid had been right, he was not pleased with her report. Still, all difficulties could be overcome. Xixor called for a technician to come and do his bidding, informing others of their parts, some little tasks, nothing too large for her menial brain-capacity.

Scraping and bowing, she entered. "Your wish, my Lord?" squeaked the small Sullustean. Well. She would do fine for this job…

* * *

Xixor sent the cowering subordinate out the door. If no further difficulties arose, things might still work out according to his plans. The missing team…he wondered about that. Ah! That slimy…Jabba would pay for this! No one stole from Black Sun and got away with it! Small comlink or no, it was one on which Xixor's orders went out. He would have to see about getting that code changed. He couldn't afford Jabba being able to tell his minions what to do when they thought it was he. The Hutt would be questioned about what he had done with the team…Xixor would enjoy that! 

Really, though, it was but a minor annoyance. Boba Fett was the big catch at the moment, the one to worry about. The Hutt was only a small irritant on the grand scale of things. Boba Fett was close to becoming Vader-like in his annoyance. The fish was getting grander all the time—and Xixor meant to reel this one in! 

"Guri," he spoke to the air. The door whisked open and the Human Replica Droid stepped in silently. "Have you decided how you want to locate the girl?"

"Yes, Master. I have finished that task." Left unstated was her disagreement. They both knew that she would rather capture the child herself, but she would obey her master's orders. 

"Good. Give the other team the go-ahead." Guri nodded once and stepped out again.

Xixor's minions would see to the planting of a bomb on Fett's ship, but that was merely for appearances' sake. If it caught Fett overconfident, good! If it killed him, so much the better! But Xixor would not underestimate Fett. The bounty hunter could survive a mere explosion, he was sure. What Xixor had in mind, however—_that_ would just _kill _him!

* * *

Alone in space, Boba Fett sat up suddenly straight in the cockpit chair. Something was wrong. The ship was flying differently…as if a small object had been attached to the stern…Fett's fingers flew over the control board. The computer estimated it had embedded itself in the wall of the ship deeply enough that a small part of it was actually _inside_ the _Slave_. 

Boba Fett leaped down past the ladder, ignoring it. He sprinted through his ship to the stern-most end and skidded right. He turned back two steps and studied the bulkheads. A small anomaly stuck-out—miniscule, hardly detectable, even with his mechanically-enhanced vision; no one else would have noticed it, but Fett knew every decimeter of his ship as well as he knew his armor and himself. That was it. Fett pointed his flame-thrower at it and cooked the bulkhead at the center of the attachment. A faint whiff of smoke appeared. The attached item was weaker than the ship's wall. Still, Fett kept the flames going until a hole appeared in the wall. Air was immediately sucked into vacuum. Fett gave the commands to start-up homeostatic ship functions to mend the breach. Still…there was something he didn't like…

__

No! Fett swirled around and fired his wrist laser into the almost-closed hole _Slave_ was rapidly mending. The force of the laser-blast was enough to send the fragments of the device away from the ship. Still, when it exploded a few seconds later, Fett was thrown to the deck by the force of the blast. The dazed bounty hunter struggled to his feet. Quickly, he ran threw his list of deadly enemies. (His dangerous ones numbered in the thousands, but only thirty or so—living—entities could be counted as "deadly" ones.) He just as rapidly came to his conclusion: Xixor. Only Black Sun would be able to pull off something like that—and think that they could get away with it. The Dark Prince had counted on Fett being killed—but it hadn't worked. Hidden beneath the threatening visor of his Mandalorian helmet, Boba Fett's eyes narrowed. The Prince had made his misstep. Now, it was time to do something about it. 

Boba Fett returned to the cockpit to plot a new hyperspace course. This time, he'd make _sure_ Xixor knew he'd blundered.

* * *

Aboard the Star Destroyer _Devastator_, an anxious technician hurried up behind Darth Vader. With his mechanical breath rasping loud and harsh in the sudden quiet, Vader turned to look at the nearby trembling officer. "Yes…?" he hissed ominously.

"L-lord Vader, s-sir…" the Imperial gulped audibly.

"Yes…?" Vader asked, his annoyance visibly increasing. 

"S-sir, it's, uh, the b-bounty hunter, sir…Boba Fett…he, uh, he called us…"

"I shall speak with him." Vader began walking toward the comm.

"Sir!" the officer squeaked. Vader spun, glaring, his cloak spiraling out around him like black storm clouds gathering portentously on the horizon.

"My lord, that-that won't be n-necessary. Boba Fett just w-wanted to tell you, sir…" the technician swallowed again.

"Yes…?" Vader hissed evilly.

"He wanted to tell you," the technician managed to keep his voice from cracking, "that he's reconsidered your proposal.

"He'll take the job."

* * *

"Have we found our volunteer to be the bounty?" the Dark Prince inquired of his contact.

"Yes, my Lord," the answer came back. The assassin had been located and hired.

Finally, his plans could be put into motion. 

Boba Fett was doomed.


	6. Chapter Six: Now, fourteen years after

****

Chapter VI:

__

Now, fourteen years after Return of the Jedi…

The news reports were buzzing about the recent deaths of Galla Merrann and her little girl, Addi. Apparently, the old lady who lived next door had seen a cool-looking blonde exiting around the time of their death. She'd claimed to be a niece—a doctor—and had said the little girl was sick with a contagious illness, and all "cold, stiff, that sort of thing," in a very calm manner. Then, she'd adroitly warned the old lady to stay away, because she might catch it too. All reports said she had to be crazy, referring to death like an illness, warning the old lady to mind her own business or die in such a manner. Despite numerous posters and searchers, no sign of the suspect had been found.

Another crazy, this one claiming to be a former Black Sun worker—how absolutely preposterously amusing!—claimed to know whom it was. Said it was someone pretty high up, right next to the late Prince Xixor, in fact, and said he thought she was a _droid_. A droid, really! Everyone just laughed him off and kept about his, her, or its searches…later, when he disappeared, nobody noticed. Said if he was really around in Black Sun days, he had to have enemies enough to bop him off any old time, and as no body turned up, everyone just turned to the next murder…

Boba Fett leaned back in the cockpit chair, contemplating recent developments. So, someone matching Guri's description had been sighted near an old supposed Black Sun hideout. Interesting. _Very _interesting.

He'd nearly been inclined to believe the reports stating her death in the explosion of Xixor's fortress. Later he had learned differently, of course…but from all appearances she had wiped her own memory and changed her life. A waste of an excellent killer. _This_ could prove interesting. With Vader dead, the next "killer" of Xixor in line was Fett himself. Had Vader not done the job, Fett would have. After all, Xixor had been become troublesome enough to warrant a murder. From more than just Darth Vader or Boba Fett, but nobody else would have had the initiative to do the job.

Indeed, very interesting. Boba Fett would have to watch his step a little more carefully with the Human Replica Droid trying to catch him if he tripped—with a vibroblade. Guri was almost as deadly as he himself was. And the "almost" was very slight indeed. _But big enough_, Fett was confident.

If anything, one could say Boba Fett looked forward to the confrontation, and with something akin to enjoyment and happy anticipation, not fear.

_It would be very interesting, indeed_.

Guri rarely looked at the news reports, but this time she had to check them. She had to see if there was anything that her…_adversary_ might notice that could be _damaging_ to her plans. Should anything that might point to _her_ as the killer come to light, Boba Fett would deduce it rapidly. For an organic, the bounty hunter was pretty quick.

Quick enough to catch-up with her. But _not_ quick enough to best her! Of that, Guri was certain. So certain, she would gamble everything she had achieved for her Master. Including his life, as well as her own. Overconfidence can be a weakness, but not hers. It would _not _be hers!

And she would have her Revenge at last!

****

To be continued…

__

To find out what happens next, head over to Part Two, now up and completed! The Fencer's Misstep is story id 816923 _for your additional reading pleasure, and thanks to everyone who stuck it out through the first part as the updates crawled along at a snail's pace. Hope it was worth it!_


End file.
